CHAPTER 41: THE CHAMPIONS PART 1
The order given in Latin was quickly accompanied by a multitude of crossed signs as the dozens of young girls in front of the altar stubbornly kept their heads bowed down, a veil mostly embroidered encircling their skulls as they slowly began to awaken from their lethargy. The mass had finally ended, but respectfully, not a single one breathed a sigh of relief or expressed any joy at the thought. Daphné, like the others, maintained an Olympian calm, even when Sister Anne invited them to quickly leave the small room where the sixty students and teachers had just huddled to attend the religious service. As usual, Lucie was the last to rise, her face glued to the floor as she continued to prostrate herself before the representation of Christ crucified behind the altar and recited psalms in a low voice.
"Lucie?" Daphné called gently as she shook her arm slightly. "You can get up; the service is over."
Suddenly aware of her friend's actions, Lucie indeed opened her eyes, as usual moist with tears, and slowly rose with Daphné's support. Pensive, the young peasant did not immediately dare to look directly at her, a kind of embarrassment that seized her every time she was caught completely absorbed in her prayers.
"I have a bit of a stomachache," she whispered while massaging it.
"That's what happens when you wear a cilice," her friend replied, sparing her a long complaint about this instrument of torture from another age.
Despite everything, Lucie had the decency to blush, but even while constantly being lectured by Daphné and Tracey about the curious metal implement she wore around her waist, she never took it off. The mortifications she indulged in had long been part of her existence, and as a sinner, scraping her skin with steel spikes seemed to her a lesser evil in the face of eternity if it allowed her to save her soul the day she found herself in purgatory.
"Let's go," Daphné invited, taking her arm delicately to lead her to the exit.
Leaving the discomfort of the place and its solemn aspect, the two joined Tracey and the others at the exit, their veils already removed the moment they crossed the threshold of the small chapel where the service had taken place since their arrival the day before. It had been arranged inside the castle by Dumbledore himself, who, in his great kindness, thought it fitting to place it in one of the school's dungeons. A mistake on his part, a cruel lack of knowledge on the subject, or simply a provocation by the old headmaster? Opinions were divided on this matter, but making the best of a bad situation, no one complained... at least, not out loud. Fortunately, it was Madame Maxime who took care of decorating the place with the not insignificant participation of Sister Anne of Saint Augustine, the only nun from Beauxbatons who usually assisted the priest preaching in their academy but volunteered to accompany most of her little students into this land of perdition and immorality that was Protestant Scotland.
Classes would only start tomorrow, but Madame Maxime had not extended the hospitality of her English counterpart to the point of asking her to reserve several classrooms within the castle. In any case, an intuition told her that, as with the chapel, these classrooms would hold some particularly unpleasant surprises, to which the pettiness of the old headmaster would not be unrelated. So she had arranged several additional rooms in the carriage, sparing her not only the small constraints of cohabiting with the other students at Hogwarts but also of being indebted to Dumbledore for a service he would have reluctantly granted.
However, the presence of her students within the walls of Hogwarts was inevitable, and today, it was more so than usual for the simple and unique reason that it was now time to designate the Beauxbatons champion for the Triwizard Tournament. Once again, Madame Maxime stood at the forefront, in a dignified and solemn posture, evidently waiting for her little students to deign to be silent so they could begin their ascent from the dungeons to the entrance hall of the school, where the Goblet of Fire was located. Like yesterday, the more fortunate students were right in front of her, but the seventh years wishing to enter the tournament had also been brought forward, a ticket containing their respective names in hand.
"Order, please," she ordered in a deep voice, eyeing the troop of excited students who immediately lined up. "We are civilized people, not barbarians, so please follow me in silence and without pushing."
Accompanying her words with actions, Madame Maxime turned her back on them and advanced through the dark corridor they were in, her heavy heels banging loudly on the stony floor. Despite being strict about it, Daphné still found these instructions relatively useless since it seemed that at this time of day, a large part of Hogwarts students chose to sleep in. Only a few students had been seen since they entered the school an hour earlier, and most of them were from Slytherin. Therefore, there was little chance that any gossipmonger could find fault with a group of giggling and talking girls in a dungeon.
Their ascent was silent, under the curious gaze of the few paintings adorning the dark corridors they traversed and under the dim light emitted by the multiple torches arranged on their path. Finally, they reached the entrance hall, but far from the castle's dungeons, the activity there was already more bustling, and some students were already crowding around the Goblet of Fire placed in the center of the room on a small wooden pedestal. A white line had been drawn around it, as a limit not to be crossed, and a group of students was having fun throwing bits of bread in its direction, as if to ensure that there was indeed no risk of crossing it... before their food was promptly thrown back in their faces. Their arrival abruptly put an end to the conversations animating the place, and all heads turned towards them as Madame Maxime, towering over everyone with her towering height, moved towards the cup.
"Ladies, it's your turn," she invited, turning to them, her large black eyes fixed on the designated candidates.
Fleur, along with her friend Marie and a few others, broke ranks and approached the cup. While Fleur deposited her piece of parchment inside it without a hint of anxiety or doubt, the same could not be said of the others who, after a few moments of reflection, finally followed her lead. The moment seemed solemn, almost as if everyone were witnessing an extraordinary event, and a thunderous silence accompanied each of the young girls in their gesture.
"I think these are the first to submit their candidacy," muttered a Hufflepuff student a few meters from Daphné, louder than he intended.
"No, it seems Marcus Flint has already volunteered," his friend objected, looking dismayed.
"If a Slytherin is named Hogwarts champion, I think I'll switch my support to another school," he replied.
"For house cohesion, there are things to reconsider," Daphné couldn't help but think as she listened to this conversation with a distracted ear. For her part, even if misfortune dictated that Fleur became their champion, she would make a good impression and support her in all the challenges she would have to face. But becoming friends with her was another matter; her kindness had its limits after all!
"Ladies," Madame Maxime resumed once the last student had put her name in the cup, "you are now free for the day. Take advantage of the time given to explore this castle within the limits imposed on you. Be all on time at noon at the carriage so that we can all go to lunch together."
"Yes, Madame Maxime," they all replied, slightly bowing their heads.
Their director responded with a similar gesture before heading towards the exit, some of her students following suit. The others waited for her departure before finally relaxing and chatting with their friends, just like the Hogwarts students who were also commenting on what had just happened.
"What do we do?" Tracey threw in, casually looking at the Goblet of Fire, which had been emitting small sparks for a few minutes.
"We might as well go outside; the weather is rarely good in this region, so let's enjoy it," suggested Aglaé.
By mutual agreement, the other four nodded in approval, and Daphné took the lead, cutting through the small crowd that was beginning to form in the hall to head towards the castle's park. The weather was indeed much milder than the day before, but the reason was simply that it had only been daylight for a few hours, and the sun had appeared in the sky amidst the numerous gray clouds that dominated the surrounding landscape. This impromptu escapade delighted them, as since yesterday, they had had little opportunity to explore Hogwarts. Only the ground floor and part of the dungeons had been accessible to them. However, it was not the same for the area surrounding the school, especially the beautiful lake that bordered it and was surrounded by a significant forest. In the distance, multiple small hills and plateaus could be seen, a landscape that vaguely reminded them of the beautiful Auvergne they had left behind.
It was obviously cold, but surprisingly not as much as one might have thought. Nevertheless, the more sensitive ones no longer left the carriage without first wearing a thick fur cape and a pair of gloves. Some had rightly developed a slight cold since yesterday, and Marie and Aglaé did not deviate from this new rule, each sharing the thick beaver fur cape they had raised over their shoulders.
Their little walk ended near the lake, under a centuries-old tree whose leaves were beginning to turn yellow. Swept by a few gusts of wind, it dropped pretty leaves on them that Tracey gathered to fan herself with, a small proud look on her face that amused Lucie. Daphné, on the other hand, kept her eyes fixed on the surface of the lake, distractedly noting the small ripples formed by the falling leaves. However, her thoughts were directed towards an entirely different topic that had troubled her since yesterday: Matthew Potter. How had he managed to recognize her? What did his words mean? Should she be wary of him now or not worry about it? Could she even... talk to her fiancé about it? The temptation was there, especially since, without admitting it to herself, she was slightly afraid of the actions Matthew might take against her. She remained convinced that at the slightest problem from Matthew, Harry would be ready to leave his regiment and rush to Hogwarts to put his little brother in his place. But just for that reason, Daphné preferred not to inform Harry; her fiancé had struggled to rebuild himself so that he would not risk exposing himself to Dumbledore and James...
But thinking about them did nothing to improve her mood. Being in the school of the person who had made Harry's life hell was not a joyful prospect, especially when her own father could show up in this same school for the slightest pretext. And as a pretext, Daphné knew she could well be one: although he had officially stopped trying to find his ex-wife, James remained a threat to her, as well as to Harry and Rose. It only took him to remember that she was engaged to his eldest son for Daphné to suddenly become the center of attention for this madman, or even for Dumbledore. But for now, the headmaster of Hogwarts had done absolutely nothing against her, whether it was a chance encounter in a school corridor or an attempt at Legilimency on her mind. Perhaps he was not even aware of anything!
"Glad to see you again... Greengrass."
These words, these five little words, this innocuous sentence, however, tempered Daphné's hope of slipping through Dumbledore's net. In this case, Matthew remembered her perfectly, and even if the reason escaped him since they had never been close, all he had to do was report their brief exchange and the scarce information he had about her to make her life a living hell. Perhaps he even remembers that she was promised to his elder brother... Daphné was ready to face any eventuality, but she also knew she was incapable of facing Dumbledore magically; the old madman might have a twisted mind, but he could be formidable in a magical duel, and she had no chance against him. But a small light managed to pierce the darkness of this dark realization, a light that took the form and power of the half-giantess that was Madame Maxime; nothing could happen to her as long as she remained under her protection, and the headmaster of Hogwarts was not stupid enough to dare to confront her. Moreover, had not Marie-Louise expressly asked this same director to watch her closely to prevent any eventuality? This protection, rudimentary as it may be, was enough to reassure her somewhat, as well as the protection offered by Harry through their magical bond; a simple transfer of emotion, sufficient at least to alert him, despite the thousands of kilometers separating them, would allow him to come to her aid by any means.
"Daphné?" called Tracey.
Daphné turned her gaze to her, realizing in passing that the other three were also looking at her. Apparently, lost in her thoughts, she had not noticed the long minutes of silence she had immersed herself in. Nevertheless, putting on a brave face, she gave them a slight reassuring smile before stretching her arms lazily.
"My apologies, I was thinking about Gabriel," she said wearily.
Her half-lie seemed sufficient for her friends, as with a skeptical or concerned look, they all offered a knowing smile. Aglaé and Marie even giggled surprisingly for young ladies who usually considered laughter as inappropriate most of the time. But when it came to love, the discourse changed, and Daphné easily played on that tableau to dispel any questions against her.
"Who wouldn't think about him?" argued Tracey with a mischievous tone. "I, too, can only think about him, truly. He... He never leaves my mind... I can constantly feel his presence around me, and just not being able to touch him, caress him, feel him against me, troubles me so much—Ouch!"
Rubbing the back of her head where Daphné had just slapped her, Tracey did not abandon the mocking smile that split her face, even when her best friend, keeping her hand still in the air, threatened her with a mere glance to repeat her gesture if she dared to mock her again. Instead, the Davis heiress preferred to spend time reviewing the play she was rehearsing. A copy of "L'École des femmes" miraculously appeared in her hand after searching for a few moments under the folds of her uniform. Lucie volunteered to help her with her revisions, while Aglaé and Marie, for whom playacting was not a hobby, immersed themselves again in the long and endless conversations they were fond of. However, the task was proving very difficult for Lucie; designated by the Davis heiress to play all the roles, it was extremely complicated for her to memorize all the lines to be spoken or the little gestures that could give more life and depth to her multiple roles. Above all, Tracey could be very professional in the field of acting. Far from her friendly and likable character, it happened several times that she lost patience with her young friend's hesitations or corrected her when she stumbled over one of the lines in the text. But their little show at least amused Daphné, Marie, and Aglaé, especially when, trying to pretend to be sitting on a chair, Tracey overestimated the width of the tree stump and fell backward on the grass. All embarrassed, she could only nervously scratch her head, making a sort of embarrassed grimace under the laughter of her comrades.
"Oh, but wouldn't it be...," she suddenly muttered before quickly getting up. "Hey! Neville! Over here!"
Daphné, like the other three, also turned her head towards the figure crossing the lawn with his head lowered towards the castle entrance. Marie and Aglaé were indignant at Tracey's loud way of hailing people, but she didn't care at all. She was now waving to the young boy to join them, looking delighted. He looked at her with a puzzled expression, surprised to see someone inviting him in this manner. However, it was especially when he pointed at himself to verify that he was the one Tracey was calling and she confirmed it with a nod that he suddenly turned a lobster-red color, his fingers nervously playing on the cover of the books he held tightly against him. But instead of making them wait any longer, he changed direction and headed towards them, his gaze on his polished shoes and his step uncertain. The girls watched him approach with a skeptical look, most of them not knowing him, but Daphné finally remembered the shy and awkward young boy she had occasionally come across in her early youth. The awkward manners, the nervous smile, and that constant nervousness in his demeanor... How could she forget Neville Longbottom? Examining him more closely as he approached, Daphné found him unchanged, though much taller now, with longer hair falling on his shoulders. But apart from that... There were no significant differences in him. Daphné had not personally known him well enough to see him as a classmate or even a friend, but seeing Tracey rush to him and give him a hug, she was surprised to find that she did not know her best friend as well as she thought.
"How are you!?" exclaimed Tracey, stepping back slightly from him, a sparkling smile on her face.
"Well, uh... Good, I suppose?" Neville replied nervously as he ran a hand through his hair.
"I'm so happy to see you! We haven't seen each other for at least two years! Oh, but wait, I have to introduce you to my friends!"
And carried away by her joy, Tracey grabbed his arm to direct him towards them, Daphné and the others having taken the trouble to stand up in the meantime.
"You must surely remember Daphné?" she asked immediately, stopping him in his tracks in front of the said young lady.
"Not really, to be honest," apologized Neville before blushing even more when he noticed the unflattering remark he had just made. "I probably should have, a pretty girl is not easily forgotten..."
Daphné gave him a thin smile at his compliment, but it was mainly because Neville had just addressed it stammering and giving the impression that he was not used to complimenting people. Awkwardly, the young Gryffindor had tried to be polite to her, and for that, she could only commend him. But another part of her mind told her that Neville had mostly felt obligated to say it to her, an intuition that was further reinforced when he took her hand, trembling slightly, to kiss it. Daphné did not respond and merely nodded politely, but Aglaé, Marie, and even Lucie did nothing to ease the young man's anxiety. None of them showed him any sign of respect, but Lucie must have been too intimidated by him to dare to open her mouth in his presence.
"Why don't you stay with us?" Tracey suggested as she patted the grass gently after sitting down herself.
"I... Would that be okay?" he asked timidly as he glanced furtively at the five young ladies.
"Not at all!" she replied with a smile. "And then we could put into practice what our respective heads of houses asked us to do: befriend students from other schools!"
However, while Tracey genuinely seemed delighted to have Neville's company, it was not the same for others: Marie and Aglaé looked at the newcomer suspiciously, wondering if the heir of the Longbottoms had any malicious intentions towards them like any boy his age, while Daphné, in truth, felt a marked indifference in Neville's presence. Lucie was probably the only one not to be offended, but her reserved nature might be the cause. Accepting Tracey's offer nevertheless, Neville quickly took a seat next to her, a shy smile on his face as he silently thanked each of the girls with a glance.
"So, tell me, what were you doing in the castle's greenhouses?" Tracey immediately inquired. "I thought there were no classes on Sundays at Hogwarts."
"That's true," Neville immediately affirmed, speaking to the amazement of the other girls in almost impeccable French. "I... I really like Herbology classes, and Professor Sprout has agreed since last year to give me extra lessons in this subject. I would like to be a Herbology professor later on, so I... I thought I could deepen my knowledge in this branch of magic and prepare for my exams faster than my classmates."
"Herbology professor?" repeated Marie incredulously, furrowing her brows. "But you're a lord, the heir of Longbottom! You don't need to work!"
"You don't need to address me so formally, you know," Neville indicated. "And you can call me by my first name if you want. As for what you just said, I'm theoretically not a Lord since my father still holds that title, and my grandmother manages my family's interests admirably. I plan to leave the management of our estate to her for some time before taking on the position that rightfully belongs to me. And I want to use this free time to do what I love: study plants and pass on my knowledge to other people."
"And that's to your credit, Neville," declared Tracey while shooting a dark look at Marie. "We only have one hour of Herbology at Beauxbatons, but there, this subject is called 'Herbology and Earth Science.' It can occasionally be combined with our Potion class, but it's not a very important subject compared to Charms, Transfiguration, or magical dueling classes!"
"You have magical dueling classes!?" Neville blurted out in disbelief. "That must be fascinating!"
"Indeed," confirmed Lucie as she addressed him for the first time. "We first have a theoretical class for an hour where we review the spells and curses seen before, then the next hour is practical workshops where we face each other, trying to use the spells we've learned. I... I don't do too bad personally, but Daphné is by far the best among us all."
Neville's gaze immediately shifted to her, but Daphné, who briefly gave a slight smile, maintained the same impassive air that usually discouraged any stranger from showing prolonged interest in her. Intimidated by her unfriendly demeanor, Neville redirected his attention to the shy Lucie, who immediately blushed under the gaze of the Gryffindor.
"Don't pay attention to Daphné," Tracey whispered to him, noticing the cold air that her best friend had taken since his arrival. "She was trained for a few years by a, let's say... special teacher, and her learning didn't stop at magic: She knows all the subtleties related to propriety and appearance, including that an engaged young lady should not be seen with another man than the one she will marry."
"And when the same happens to you, my dear Tracey, I will be pleased to repel all the young men wishing to approach you," Daphné affirmed with a knowing smile.
Tracey responded by sticking her tongue out at Neville, apparently the only one understanding Daphné's comment, but Neville didn't need that to laugh at his friend's grimace.
"Can I ask you a question?" he said, turning again to Daphné.
"If it's not related to the occasional flirtations I might have, and Daphné would love to interrupt if they go too far, then of course, you can!" Tracey replied with a giggle.
"No, no," he assured immediately. "It might seem rude of me, but now that I have you both in front of me, I wonder why you didn't come to Hogwarts?"
At this question, Tracey and Daphné immediately looked at each other, each silently asking the other if she should answer. The real reasons certainly should not be said to avoid the story surrounding this choice from reaching Dumbledore's ears, but a beginning of an answer could still be given to Neville.
"In truth, I just followed Daphné to this school," Tracey began. "Her parents thought it best to send her to a different school than the one run by Professor Dumbledore, especially when scandals began to break out, and people realized that he wasn't as innocent as he wanted to make people believe. Once you realize that a school head can be just as dishonest and cunning as the worst crooks, then the trust you place in the institution he runs crumbles, at least that's what her father told me."
"My father also wanted me to receive an education that didn't stop at the classical subjects concerning only magic, as it currently happens at Hogwarts," continued Daphné in a frosty voice. "According to him, great gaps appear as soon as you step out of the purely magical framework, and it is downright scandalous that wizards have an unsatisfactory level in more ordinary subjects in the Muggle world such as physics, mathematics, or even in various areas related to art. Do they even teach music at Hogwarts?"
"Uh... There is a choir that sings at the beginning of each year, but it just performs the Hogwarts anthem," confessed Neville contritely.
"So you don't know how to play any instruments unless you've learned to play them at home," Daphné continued with the approving nod from Gryffindor. "How do you expect to open students to artistic creations if you don't even give them the means to do so? Are there Muggle-borns among you? Some may even come from families too poor to think for a moment about acquiring an instrument or learning to paint. How do they then discover these kinds of things if they are not given the opportunity? And then, the poorest families may have never had access to classical education, to spelling, grammar, to the most basic mathematics, even to history or Latin!"
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